


Don't Know What You've Got

by mariawritesstuff



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, F/M, Genderswap, University Student Zayn, girl!Harry, girl!Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2017-12-30 09:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariawritesstuff/pseuds/mariawritesstuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry had been in love with Zayn since forever and they both knew it. And, even though she swore she was long over him, Zayn knew it wasn’t true but he pretended he didn’t because he didn’t want to lose his best friend – his only friend. So, when Louis waltzes into their lives, Zayn can't understand why it bothers him so much that Harry isn’t straight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! Not really sure what this is at all, really. Read a fanfic yesterday and it was zarry girl!Zayn and I thought hm I wanna try that out so I did and I wrote it last night except I made it girl!Harry because why the hell not, eh? Feedback in comments and subscribe and kudos and however else you can show support (IF you wanna show support, that is) because I'm not even sure whether to keep going or just give up.

Zayn unlocked the apartment door and inhaled deeply as his stomach grumbled with stimulation from the scent of the dinner Harry was preparing that had wafted into the corridor.

“Looks who’s back!” his flat mate called happily.

“That smells fucking amazing,” Zayn growled, joining her in the kitchen.

“Well, you’re just in time!” Harry grinned as she tucked a loose, brown, curl behind her ear. She switched off the cooker and served their meal – macaroni and cheese – into the plates Zayn had just brought out. They took their plates and sat across from each other at the cheap, small table. Zayn dug in immediately.

“Oh my god, Haz, this is incredible,” he said honestly.

“Yeah?” Harry smirked as she pulled out the hair tie that had been holding her curly hair up. “Better add that one to the list of compliments from you, Malik. Lord knows they’re rare and spaced out. Or however that expression goes.”

Zayn chuckled.

“You mean few and far between. And I always compliment you!”

“My arse!” Harry cried. “Only when food’s involved!”

“What more do you need?”

Harry rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“Why do I even put up with you?”

“Because you love me.”

Zayn had only meant it as a joke – a bit of playful banter – but as soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Harry’s scornful _“as if”_ came moments later, but not before that momentary falter, the slight hesitation. They lapsed into a silence that couldn’t really be described as awkward, just a little tenser than the usual easy atmosphere between them. It was the same silence they always fell into whenever Zayn slipped up and made a comment like that.

 

Zayn and Harry had been friends since primary school. They had stuck together like they were joined at the hip. Sometimes Harry would run off and socialize because the girl sure was popular but she’d always come back for Zayn, her quiet, introverted best friend. When they reached secondary school, Harry had admitted to a friend that she had feelings for Zayn. Obviously, as she was so admired and the school was so small, it had gotten around pretty quickly and Zayn had overheard people talking about it. Although the pair never talked about it, it had put such a strain on their friendship. After a while, at one of their hangouts, she had randomly blurted,

“You know I don't fancy you anymore, right?”

“Really?” Zayn had asked, maybe a little too hopefully.

“Yeah. So you can stop acting like such a weirdo now.” Harry had rolled her eyes and smiled and Zayn had felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest, even though he had known she was only saying that so they could go back to the way things used to be.

 

Years later, they were now 21 (at least Zayn was. Harry, the clever fucker, had skipped a grade and was only 20) and sharing a flat. Zayn was an art student and worked part-time at the local gallery. He loved his job, even if being a tour guide did get quite repetitive and involved way more talking than he would like. Harry, on the other hand, was in a band. After a couple of months studying architecture, she had decided that wasn’t where she wanted to be and had dropped out. Now she and her band played three nights a week at the nearby pub to help pay the bills.

 

“How was work?” She asked, bringing Zayn back from his trip down memory lane.

“Alright,” he shrugged, grateful for her weak attempt at lightening the mood. “Same old.”

“Yeah? Was that blonde chick there again this time?”

“Yeah.” Zayn didn’t like talking about girls with Harry. They usually talked about _her_ love life, almost as if they were trying to convince themselves that she really had moved on from him.

“Did you catch her name this time?”

“Yeah. Perrie.”

“Did you get her number?”

“Yeah.”

“Ooh!” Harry waggled her eyebrows.

“Don’t do that,” Zayn grumbled. Harry snickered and got up, taking both of their empty plates to the kitchen. Zayn made his way to the small living room and switched on the radio before plonking down onto the couch. Soon, Harry joined him, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and snuggling into his side. Zayn let her. It wasn’t a romantic thing; Harry was just a very affectionate person and craved human contact.

 

Before long, Harry had fallen asleep. Zayn tried to nudge the curly-haired girl awake to no avail. Resignedly, he gently picked her up bridal style and carried her to their shared bedroom, dropping her on her single bed. He almost left her like that but, in her super tight skinny jeans and fitted t-shirt, he doubted she’d be very comfortable. He considered the consequences of changing her. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it all before – Harry wasn’t a very shy person and often walked around the flat stark naked – and things would only get weird if it was her time of the month. Quickly glancing at the calendar above her bed, he saw that it wasn’t. So he slipped her brown boots off her feet and yanked down her black jeans, amazed at how little she stirred. He grabbed a pair of pyjama shorts from her side of the wardrobe and slid them up her long, pale legs. Then, after pulling off her t-shirt, he unhooked her bra, making sure to stay behind her so that he didn’t see anything (because even though he’d already seen it all he still didn’t want to invade her privacy or abuse her trust). Once he had helped her into the tank top she often slept in, he lifted the duvet and tucked her into bed, chuckling to himself at the sweet innocence of her sleeping pout.

 

Stretching and yawning, he stripped down to his boxers and, after taking a piss in the toilet, crawled under his own sheets, only too welcoming to the comfort of sleep as images of a certain blonde girl and her flirty little smile filled his head.

 

* * *

 

“What’s cooking, good-looking?”

Harry looked up and smiled as her friend, Niall took a seat across from her in the crowded coffee shop.

“Nialler, you really need to come up with a better line,” she teased.

“Why?” The blonde boy grinned mischievously. “It worked on you.”

Harry laughed.

“I suppose it did. Although maybe if you had a better line you could get more than just one-night stands.”

“Who needs more than that? Besides, I don't see you as a one-night stand. You’re the most constant female in my life.” He took her hand and kissed it. Harry laughed.

“Aren’t you just a sweetheart?” She joked, knowing full well he wasn’t.

Niall grinned.

“Anyways!” He continued, taking a sip of Harry’s coffee, a move for which he earned an unimpressed scowl. “How’s the new song coming along?”

“It’s…coming.” Harry sighed.

“Is this one about Zayn again?” Niall’s blue eyes twinkled.

“Fuck off! None of them are about Zayn!” Harry declared.

“Yeah? Then why d’you always get so defensive?”

“I do not!”

“Yeah, right. Even Josh thinks they’re about Zayn. And he doesn’t even know the guy!”

“Neither do you!” Harry spat. Niall cackled. He loved winding Harry up.

“I know enough. Not that we mind. Nah, we’re cool with playing songs about you’re childhood crush or whatever. As long as it keeps the crowds coming.”

Harry said nothing in reply. As long as the crowds kept coming, he had said. _Well they won't be coming for much longer if you can't whip a new song up_ , Harry thought bitterly. That was her role – get the lyrics. Niall would think up a tune on his guitar and Josh, their drummer and third bandmate, would bring a beat. But they couldn’t do their bit if she didn’t do hers.

“There’s this new bird working at the pub, did you know?”

That was the good thing about Niall; he never lingered too long on a topic. His mind wandered far too much to allow it.

“When did she start?”

“Today.”

“Then how the fuck would I know?” Harry pointed out good-humouredly. Niall shrugged, not really caring. The pub they played at was owned by Niall’s father, which was how they got their slot in the first place. Since then, however, they had been pulling their own weight, their gigs based on public appreciation.

“She’s so fit it’s fucking unbelievable,” he carried on.

“Are you gaming her then?”

“Fuck yeah!”

“Do you even know her name?”

“Yeah, I do. It’s Louis.” Niall smirked triumphantly.

“Is that just cuz you noticed the name tag while checking out her rack?” Harry teased.

“No. Actually, she hasn’t got that much upstairs. But her arse is fucking incredible.” His pupils dilated slightly as he envisioned the girl. Harry chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“Save it for wank-time, mate.”

“And who are _you_ saving for wank-time?”

“Why, you, of course!” Harry batted her eyelashes.

“Right answer!” Niall grinned and helped her up from the hand he still hadn’t released. “Now let’s go find Josh. I swear, Hazza, the beat he’s come up with is the craic!”

 

* * *

 

Zayn forced a smile and said goodbye to the group of people he had just finished touring. Who knew Londoners were so into art?

 

When most of them had left, Zayn’s eyes fell upon the blonde beauty that had been making eyes at him the whole time. He slipped his hands into his pockets and the fake smile fell off his face, replaced by his default smirk. She grinned and held her hands behind her back as she skipped lightly towards him.

“Hey, you,” she chirped.

“Hey,” was all he replied.

“So, I was wondering,” she lowered her voice and dropped her gaze, “if you’d maybe like to go out for lunch sometime?” she looked up at him through lidded eyes. He’d always loved that. He took her in from head to toe. She was dressed in a blue, tie-dye, maxi dress with a flower crown around her platinum blonde head.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, my shift’s just ended…”

“I’ve got work now…” she bit her lip.

“Oh, that sucks. Maybe some other time-”

“No, wait!” she grabbed his arm before he could turn away. “I could get my friend to cover for me. She won't mind.”

“If you’re sure…”

The girl nodded eagerly and pulled out her phone. As Perrie walked a few steps away to plead her friend to cover her shift, Liam, Zayn’s fellow employee and only other (sort of) friend apart from Harry, rounded the corner and stared at him with wide eyes.

“Is what just happened what I _think_ just happened?” he asked.

“What do you think happened? I’m going to lunch with her.” Zayn shrugged nonchalantly.

“How do you do that?” Liam murmured incredulously.

“Do what?”

“Get girls without even trying.”

Zayn shrugged again.

“How do you get into long-term relationships? How long has it been with Danielle? Two years?”

Liam’s eyes dulled.

“Three, actually. But we broke up.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. She’s dancing for so many people on tour and won't be back for ages so we broke up.”

“I’m sorry,” was all Zayn could think of to say. He’d never been good with words.

“So am I.” Liam shrugged and chuckled quietly to himself. It reminded Zayn of what Harry did when she didn’t want to seem too affected by something. Speaking of Harry…

“Remind me to introduce you to my flatmate sometime,” Zayn said.

“The one who came to see you the other day? Harry, was it?” Liam’s voice perked up a little. Zayn nodded.

“You saw her? Why didn’t you come say hello?”

Liam blushed and rocked back on his feet.

“Dunno. Didn’t wanna intrude. You guys seemed…close.” After a short hesitation he added, “she’s fit.”

Zayn resisted the urge to laugh. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that.

“Yeah, I guess. You should come over sometime. I think she’d like you.”

Liam’s grin was so wide that for a moment Zayn was worried he would rip his face.

Just then, Perrie returned.

“All sorted. You ready?” she flashed Liam a quick smile and he mumbled goodbye to Zayn who nodded in return.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”


	2. 2

Harry ran over the lyrics in her head. She was sat cross-legged on the armchair in Niall’s flat above his father’s pub. It wasn’t that she was nervous – because, really, she was born to be a performer – it was just really warm and her hands were clammier than usual. So she decided she needed a drink. It would cool her down and also give her a chance to check out this Louis girl that Niall had been going on about.

 

So, after sharing this with her bandmates, Harry made her way down the side stairs and into the pub through the back door. The place was jam-packed. Squeezing through the tipsy throng as they cheered on the first act of the night, Harry finally reached the bar. She noticed the girl serving another customer and, Niall was right, she had one hell of an arse on her. She was petite but with a full figure – small waist, round hips. And then when she turned around and their eyes met, Harry sucked in a sharp breath.

 

Her small eyes were a piercing blue that twinkled, even in the dimly lit room. They were narrowed slightly into a squint as she observed Harry. Her nose was somewhat crooked, as if it had been broken one too many times and her thin, pink lips were slightly pursed. Her straight, brown hair had a reddish tint to it. She was so delicately beautiful, in a not-at-all-delicate way, if that even made sense. The only person more beautiful than the girl that Harry had ever seen was living under the same roof as Harry herself.

 

Once Harry remembered where she was, she quickly pushed the thought out her mind, although she didn’t having a problem with admitting that Zayn was attractive because he clearly was. She grinned and beckoned Louis over. The girl came obediently.

“You must be Louis,” Harry yelled over the loudness as she switched on the charm. It really was part of her nature. She couldn’t help but make everyone love her.

“How do you know?” Louis frowned.

“Just a hunch.” Harry brushed her finger against Louis’ left breast, right where her name was sewn into her shirt. A mixture of emotions flashed through Louis’ eyes – surprise, anger, arousal…Harry knew that last one well. When the bartender looked down and noticed the nametag, she blushed immediately. Harry smirked. It was cute.

“I’m Harry,” she informed.

“Well, Harry, would you like a drink?” Louis asked, regaining composure.

“I’d bloody love one. Believe it or not, I didn’t come all this way just to check you out.”

Louis flushed again but held her own.

“But you did a little bit.”

“You got me,” Harry shrugged, conceding. Louis laughed and it was absolutely infectious. Harry found herself laughing along.

“So what would you like?” Louis asked again.

“You.” Harry smirked in the way that showed off her dimples. Louis rolled her eyes.

“I meant what _drink_ would you like.”

“I just need shots, really,” Harry said truthfully.

“Coming right up!”

Harry laughed to herself as she watched the way Louis’ full hips swayed as she walked away. Because, really, here she was, flirting outrageously with this girl that she had only just met when, she wasn’t even into girls, she didn’t think. But Harry rarely ever thought, at least not too deeply. She had always been one go with the flow. And she flirted with everyone she met. That was just the way she was. So she didn’t think too much of it, accepting her shots when Louis returned, flirting a bit more (not that she could help it) before returning to her bandmates as they prepared for their gig.

 

* * *

 

Harry entered the flat, her eyes adjusting quickly from the dim corridor. The gig had gone better than usual and she was on a bigger high. She was also quite tipsy. But mainly on a high. From the performance and from the way she and Louis had continued flirting afterwards. She and Niall had returned to the bar and, after several attempts, Niall had given up trying to regain Louis’ attention, grumbling something that they all knew he didn’t mean, about how much of a prick Harry was for stealing what he’d wanted first.

 

Harry could hear the radio on (they didn’t have a TV; not that either of them particularly cared for one), an indication that Zayn was home. Dropping her keys on the table, the curly-haired girl kicked the door shut and yawned loudly.

“Honey, I’m home!” she called out. Zayn turned and smiled from his place on the loveseat.

“There’s some takeout in the fridge,” he informed her. Harry opened the fridge door and, sure enough, there was a little, white box containing Shrimp Lo Mein from the Chinese delicatessen just down the road.

“Aww, my favourite!” Harry pushed the box into the microwave.

“I know.”

Zayn smiled as Harry lowered herself onto the couch with the takeout in her hand.

“How was the gallery?” Harry asked through a mouthful of food.

“How about you chew before you speak?” Zayn asked, his voice slightly irritated, although Harry could see the fondness in his eyes.

“Okay.” Harry chewed on her food but kept it in her mouth. “How was the gallery?” she asked again. Zayn tutted.

“Don't you know to swallow?”

“I most certainly do!” Harry grinned wickedly. Zayn snorted and shook his head.

“You’re terrible, Haz.”

“Aww, thanks, mate.”

But she swallowed her food and turned her green-eyed gaze back to Zayn.

“Happy now?”

“Yes.” Zayn smirked smugly. He really did love getting his way. “The gallery was fine.”

“Was pretty blondie there again?” Harry pushed.

“Yeah.” Zayn could feel the corners of his mouth tugging upwards and attempted to hide it by shovelling more Chicken Chow Mein into his mouth but Harry knew him too well and wasn’t buying it.

“Oh my god, Malik, what happened? Spit it out!” she squawked excitedly. And yeah it was a little bit forced but they were both willing to ignore that.

“Nothing happened. We had lunch, was all.” Zayn tried to shrug indifferently. Because that was his thing – indifference.

“Aww, a lunch-date! How cute.” Harry sniggered at the faint blush that crept up Zayn’s neck. “So when next are you seeing her?” she considered adding ‘ _if at all’_ but thought better of it.

“Tomorrow. We’re having breakfast.”

Harry placed a hand over her heart and acted hurt.

“I thought Thursday breakfast was _our_ thing…”

Zayn’s eyes widened.

“Oh, crap. I’m sorry…I didn’t…I can cancel with her…”

Harry erupted into loud laughter.

“Dude, chill!” She giggled again as Zayn let out a groan of relief upon realising that she was joking. “It’s not like you ever woke up on time for us to catch breakfast _anywhere_.”

Zayn shrugged. Fair enough.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How was the gig?”

“Oh! Good. There were tonnes of people today.” Harry beamed.

“Yeah?”

“Mm. There was also a new bartender.”

“Yeah? What’re they like?”

“Cool. Her name’s Louis.” And as the image of the petite girl captured Harry’s mind, she felt a stupid grin creeping onto her face. She remembered their conversation, how naturally it had flowed and how easily the laughs came. She remembered how accepting Louis was of Harry’s affectionate nature. And maybe it was because she had had a few drinks but Harry sure as hell enjoyed her company.

“Whoa, what is _that_ look?” Zayn arched an eyebrow.

“What? What look?” Harry asked as she snapped back into reality.

“That one!” Zayn pointed at Harry’s face, a bemused expression on his own.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, love.” Harry tried to keep her face as straight as possible. But Zayn wasn’t having any of it. He kept his gaze on her with a challenging look. Harry stared back with her most innocent smile. But eventually he broke her down.

“Okay, fine! There might’ve been a bit of flirting involved. Nothing serious. Harmless really.”

But Zayn wasn’t convinced.

“But why would that be a big deal?”

“It isn’t.”

“Then why did you waste so much effort lying?”

“Maybe I’m a compulsive liar.”

“Bullshit,” Zayn snorted. “Harry, you’re the laziest fucker I know. Lying takes way too much effort to be your thing.”

And Harry shoved Zayn playfully on the shoulder and his lips curved into that crooked, half-arsed smile that she’d loved since the first time she met him. Zayn dropped the subject (another thing she loved about him; he wasn’t pushy. That was _her_ thing – insistence) and reached over to stroke Harry’s hair. The girl purred happily – she loved being touched – and, placing her empty takeout box by the foot of the couch, lowered her head into Zayn’s lap. Zayn placed his own takeout box on the floor as well and continued to caress Harry’s curls. They remained in blissful silence because as much as they enjoyed teasing and joking and having their little squabbles, sometimes it was just nice to _not_.

 

* * *

 

Zayn was sat on a wooden chair in the drama studio, the keys to which he had no idea how Perrie had obtained. All he knew was that, after finding out that they studied at the same university (a fact which, interestingly, Perrie already knew) they agreed to maybe catch up there. And so, after Zayn had left his fine art seminar, as he made his way to the drama side of campus, he hadn’t _hurried_ per se but he had walked a little bit quicker than usual. Fractionally. And when he had seen her exiting the little theatre in conversation with a relatively tall, slender brunette, it hadn’t taken very long for her to spot him too. She had grinned widely before grabbing him by the hand and leading him to the studio where they currently found themselves. He had asked her why they didn’t just go back to one of their places and she had answered that she just really didn't want to wait.

 

It had only been about a week since their first “lunch-date” (as Harry insisted on calling it) but Zayn wasn’t complaining too much because the blonde was straddling him, creating friction between their crotches as she worked on what was going to be a massive hickey on the side of his neck. Another thing Zayn didn’t mind. It had been over three weeks since he last hooked up anybody so this was driving him mad, even if her biting did hurt a little. He was barely listening to the words coming out of her mouth (the last thing he had really heard was something about costume design students getting their own keys) but she didn’t seem to notice. If she did, she wasn’t put off by it, or simply hid it well.

 

His hands reached under her flower print dress and grabbed and squeezed and held onto anything he could. He felt one of her hands pop open the button of his jeans and ease the zipper down. And then she was sliding off his lap and smirked up at him through her heavily mascaraed lashes. Zayn leaned back slightly and watched her, patiently but expectantly, as she nudged down the waist of his boxers and took his length in her mouth. And he let out a groan of pleasure.

 

* * *

 

“You were such a cute kid!”

Harry was cross-legged on the floor of Louis’ flat that she shared with two other girls, neither of whom were in at the moment. Their flat was much bigger and much nicer than the one Harry shared with Zayn so she guessed at least one of them came from a more privileged background than she. The visitor was going through the photo albums she had found on the ledge under the coffee table as Louis made them both teas. Louis loved tea, as Harry had discovered. She also discovered that Louis was loud and funny and spontaneous and was a really good cuddler.

 

Louis set down both their cups on the coffee table and joined Harry on the floor. The picture in question was one of little girl Louis in a cowboy costume.

“Are you implying I’m not cute now?” Louis challenged.

“No. I’d still let you ride me any day,” Harry said huskily as she nuzzled into the crook of Louis’ neck. The older girl laughed.

“Mate, you’ve got nothing for me to ride!”

“An you’re not nearly as cute!” Harry shot back. Louis gasped.

“How dare you?”

And she sprung, tackling Harry to the ground. The curly-haired girl hit the carpet with a thud but she barely had time to register the twinge of pain at the back of her head because suddenly Louis’ hands were digging into her sides.

“I’m not cute?”

“Oh god, Louis, get off!”

“How cute am I now?”

“Jesus, Lou, stop! I can't breathe!”

“Tell me again how not cute I am.”

“You’re not! I’m sorry! You’re not!”

“I’m not what? Not cute?”

“No! You’re not _not_ cute!”

“So what am I?”

“You’re cute! You’re cuter than…than…a kitten! Or a baby sheep!”

Louis cackled as Harry gasped for breath.

“You’re shit,” Harry muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“I said you’re my favourite person in the world.”

“Better.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, their breaths the only sound. And then Harry realised Louis was still straddling her. And Louis realised she was still straddling Harry. And then Harry had that stupid, knowing smirk on her face and Louis just wanted to wipe it off so she did so the only way she knew how. She leaned down and kissed her. And Harry kissed back because Louis sure did have nice lips that Harry had really wanted to kiss since they met. In fact, there was only one other pair of lips that Harry wanted to kiss more than Louis’. But that was out of the question. She had long resigned herself to that fact that she would never feel those soft, plump lips against her own. She contented herself with watching the way they moved when he spoke, the way they glistened when he licked them…

 

A soft moan escaped Louis’ mouth into Harry’s own, quickly bringing her back to her present situation. She instantly felt guilty for thinking about kissing Zayn while kissing Louis. She felt guilty for thinking about kissing Zayn at all. So, in an attempt to push the thought further from her mind, she kissed Louis harder. But the kiss didn’t last much longer because a lock clicked and a door was being opened and the two girls pulled away when they heard a surprised,

“Oh, my god!”

A slim brunette was stood in the doorway with a Topshop bag in one hand, a fancy handbag in the other and her mouth forming a small ‘o’. Harry could only see her from upside down so couldn’t tell much about her features. Louis leaned back but remained on top of Harry.

“Oh hey, El!” she beamed. The other girl – El, Harry assumed – regained poise and stepped inside, shutting the door behind her and dropping both bags on the dining table. She made her way towards the pair and lowered herself gracefully onto the couch.

“Harry, this is Eleanor. El, Harry,” Louis introduced, finally clambering off Harry.

“Lovely to meet you, Eleanor.” Harry smiled charmingly and pushed herself up, holding one hand out to Eleanor. Upright, Harry could see that Eleanor had wavy, chestnut brown hair that fell to her chest. She was pretty, with hazel eyes and soft features.

“So, _you’re_ Harry from the pub, yeah?” Eleanor shook Harry’s hand. “Lou here’s been going on about you since last week.”

Harry grinned at Louis, who merely shrugged.

“What can I say? You’ve made quite the impression on me.”

“Well I’m flattered. Thanks, love.” Harry winked. Louis blushed. Eleanor cooed. Louis threw a cushion at her.

“Hey!” Eleanor cried. “Fine! I won't give you your stupid Yorkshire tea, then.”

Louis’ eyes widened.

“You got Yorkshire tea?”

Eleanor grinned and nodded.

“It’s in the Topshop bag.”

“I fucking love you! Now we can get rid of this crap!” Louis jumped up and grabbed the now cold cups of tea, pouring them out into the sink.

“She’s from Yorkshire,” Eleanor explained to Harry. “Doncaster.”

Harry nodded.

“My best friend is from Yorkshire,” she commented.

“Is she?”

“He. And yeah, he’s from Bradford.” Harry suddenly felt her cheeks flush as she remembered the thoughts she had been having about Zayn during her and Louis’s kiss. Fortunately, the other girls didn’t notice.

“Tea for you, El?” Louis called.

“Yes please!”

“Where’s Pez, by the way?”

“Dunno. She ran off with some dude after class.”

Louis snorted.

“Typical.”

“You know, it’s really hard to design costumes for a play when the lead is missing. You should really start going to rehearsals more often, Lou,” Eleanor teased.

“Why would I do that when I can stay here and get off with fit girls?” she winked at Harry as she set down a tray with three cups on the coffee table. They laughed. Harry settled onto the couch and focused on enjoying her afternoon with these girls, all thoughts of Zayn gone from her mind.


	3. 3

Zayn unlocked the door to the flat with Liam in tow. There didn’t seem to be anyone in.

“Haz?” Zayn called out. No reply. Zayn thought that was odd. Harry didn’t play gigs on Tuesdays. And she would’ve called or texted if she was out clubbing or whatever and would be out all night. Zayn concluded that she was probably with friends and had lost track of time. She would be back soon. He told as much to Liam, who simply nodded.

“Where’s the bathroom?” the brawnier boy asked after a while.

“Through the bedroom, there’s a door on the left.” Zayn pointed out the door to the bedroom. Liam smiled gratefully and followed the directions and Zayn turned back to searching the fridge for anything to eat. He was just moving on to check the cupboards when he heard a loud cry of,

“Holy shit!”

Zayn slammed the cupboard and rushed to see what had caused Liam to yell out. When he reached the bedroom, his jaw dropped and a lump formed in his throat. At least he’d found Harry.

 

She was clambering off the girl lain on her bed, cackling shamelessly as she searched for her clothes. The other girl seemed a little more embarrassed, forcing a chuckle and folding her arms across her bare chest, her face slightly pink. It was nothing compared to Liam’s, though. He had turned a deep shade of red and was completely frozen into place. Zayn grabbed his guest by the shoulder.

“Hey, let’s leave the girls to get dressed, yeah? You can use the bathroom when they’re out.”

Liam just swallowed and Zayn guided him out of the bedroom and back to the living room.

“I’ll try and whip up something to eat. I’m not a very good cook.” Zayn made his best attempt at conversation but that wasn’t his thing. He usually nodded along and gave short answers while the other person did all the talking. He returned to the kitchen and continued to scour the kitchen when he heard Harry introducing herself to Liam. He turned around and watched the exchange.

“Heya! I’m Harry. And you?” Harry held out her hand.

“Liam,” the boy mumbled. He shook Harry’s hand but kept his eyes downcast because Harry was only in a t-shirt and her pants and, although Zayn knew that this was her idea of covering up, Liam clearly wasn’t very used to girls walking around half-naked.

“Pleasure to meet you, Liam!” Harry seemed completely oblivious to Liam’s discomfort. She skipped over to Zayn in the kitchen.

“Watchoo doing?” she sing-sang.

“Cooking,” Zayn replied. She snorted and hefted herself onto the counter.

“Zaynie, you can't cook for shit.”

Zayn opened his mouth to retort but he noticed she was in a flimsy white t-shirt and obviously wasn’t wearing a bra and, shit, had her breasts always been that perky? He felt his face heating up at the thought and quickly looked away, mumbling something unintelligible in reply. Harry was too happy to notice, though.

“Is that Louis, then?” Zayn asked as he continued to search the cupboards for a quick meal.

“Yeah. Wasn’t exactly how I planned on introducing you guys but whatever. Can't have it all, eh?”

Zayn grunted in reply. Harry chuckled.

“Zayn, why don't we just order pizza?”

Zayn acquiesced and Harry picked up the phone and ordered two medium Margherita pizzas. When the phone call ended, Zayn leaned against the counter across from Harry and tried to phrase his next question properly.

“And…um…you’re sure that this…whatever you’re having with Louis is a good idea?” he asked, trying as hard as he could to keep his voice indifferent. There was a momentary silence.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Dunno.” Zayn shrugged. “It’s just…I didn’t think you’d started liking girls again.”

“Maybe I do. Wasn’t a problem before.” Harry’s eyes were squinted and Zayn could practically hear the wheels turning in her head as she tried to decipher where he was going with this. _Good luck_ , Zayn thought wryly, because he didn’t know where he was going with it either.

“No, but…I mean, remember what happened the last time you dated a girl?”

Harry tensed visibly and Zayn saw a flash of anger in her eyes.

“Why the fuck are you bringing that up?”

Truth was, Zayn didn’t really know. All he knew was that he’d felt a strange sense of relief mixed in with the second-hand hurt when Harry had curled into him after things had ended with Taylor. And he hadn’t understood why because seeing Harry upset was the most gut-wrenching thing to experience.

“I thought…you said girls wanted too much. You said they wanted labels and that wasn’t what you were about.”

“Did I? Well, Louis doesn’t and I _like_ spending time with her so if you can't just be happy for me and let it go then you can fuck off, Malik. I don't know when you became such a homophobic twat.” And with that she hopped off the counter and headed back to the living room, where a fully dressed Louis was in conversation with a slightly less red Liam. Zayn flinched at his best friend’s words but grabbed her hand.

“I’m sorry, Haz, I’m not…it’s not that…I just…I don't wanna see you that hurt. Ever. You fell pretty hard last time.”

Harry’s green eyes blazed and, for a moment, Zayn thought she was going to burn right through to the back of his head. But then her face softened and she took a couple of steps towards him before wrapping her arms around his neck in a hug. Zayn sighed in relief and hugged her back (trying his hardest not to think about the feel of her tits against his chest).

“Thanks for caring, Zayn. But, trust me, I’ll be fine.” She pulled back and smiled, taking his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. Then her smile widened into a full on grin. “You know, for someone so eloquent most of the time, you’re terrible at getting your point across!”

Zayn laughed and shrugged.

“I’m not great under pressure.”

“Ooh, Bradford bad boy Malik has a weakness!” Harry teased.

“Hazza, you’ve known me for about 13 years now. If you don't know _all_ my weakness then you’re doing a shitty job of being a best friend.”

Harry laughed and Zayn felt something tighten in his stomach because had her laugh always sounded so tinkling? Her face radiated warmth and joy and…and familiarity and Zayn could feel a dopey grin forming on his face. For a moment neither of them spoke, just stood there, smiling at each other. And then Zayn felt the strangest sensation; it was as if something was telling him to kiss her. And before he had time to think about how _awful_ a decision that would be, he was already leaning down. Harry’s expression was unchanged, the smile frozen on her face, but in her eyes, there was something else, almost a sort of hopeful fear. And that was when the implications of what he was about to do fully registered in Zayn’s mind so he altered his trajectory, pressing his lips softly to Harry’s cheek. He heard a small sigh escape Harry’s lips, by his ear, loaded with relief and maybe also slight disappointment.

 

There was a knock on the door.

“Pizza’s here,” Zayn croaked, barely a whisper. He flashed Harry a quick smile before turning to receive the order.

 

* * *

 

That night, Zayn lay awake, thinking.

 

He thought about Louis, and how genuinely happy she made Harry. He thought about how comfortable they were together, despite only having known each other for about two weeks. He thought about how something deep inside of him that he couldn’t name made him want to dislike Louis, but he couldn’t because she had such a positive aura, such a captivating presence (and she was from Yorkshire). When she was in a room, she held everyone’s attention, usually with her never-ending stream of jokes. And she was hilarious. You couldn’t not laugh when she made a comment. And that frustrated Zayn even more. And it frustrated him that he didn’t understand why he was frustrated. And it frustrated him that he was frustrated at all, because Harry was _happy_ and shouldn’t that make him happy too?

 

He thought about the last time Harry had been with a girl.

 

_Flashback_

 

_Zayn made his way to the cafeteria. Beside him was the new girl in year 11. Naturally, she had everyone’s attention because nobody ever joined in year 11. So Zayn didn’t understand why she had sat next to_ him _in biology and why she had asked_ him _if she could join him for lunch. But he didn’t really mind. She was pretty. Sure, her American accent could get a little annoying but it was easy enough to tune out when it did._

_When they reached the cafeteria and got their lunches, Zayn guided her over to the table in the corner where he and Harry always had lunch. The curly-haired girl was already there, laughing with the captain of the first XV rugby team, a guy called Nick who was in upper six. She noticed them approaching and waved, eyes widening slightly in surprise. Nick eyed Zayn warily before promising to catch up with Harry later. Zayn sat down and so did the girl._

_“Who’s this, Zaynie? Making new friends, are we?” Harry teased. “I’m Harry,” she said to the girl, holding out her hand._

_“I’m Taylor,” the girl replied with a smile, shaking Harry’s hand._

_“Well, Zayn, you always did have a thing for blondes. And this one’s quite the looker, I must say!” Harry winked at her. Taylor blushed and giggled. Zayn frowned slightly when he realised they were still holding hands. Harry noticed and swiftly (no pun intended) pulled her hand away._

_“So, Taylor, will I be seeing you in hockey try-outs tomorrow?” Harry asked._

_“Hockey?” Taylor frowned. “Girls play hockey here?”_

_“Yeah. It isn’t really a guy sport…most guys play rugby. Or get off-games passes the whole year round.” She looked pointedly at Zayn._

_“But it’s so…rough! And violent!” Taylor cried. Then it clicked for Harry what was going through her mind._

_“No!” Harry laughed. “Not ice-hockey! God, no. We play field hockey. It’s much more feminine. Don't worry, I’ll show you the ropes.” And then something unspoken travelled between them, a look in their eyes that should have been an indication to Zayn of where this was headed._

_Six weeks later, during art class, he received a text from Harry that said,_

_“How do you know if you’re gay?”_

_Frowning, he had typed and sent,_

_“I wouldn’t know…”_

_To which Harry had replied,_

_“Fair enough. Nvm I’ll ask Ed x”_

_And that had been the end of that conversation. And Zayn tried to return his focus back to his lesson but he couldn’t, not with the growing feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach._

_A week later was when Zayn heard the first rumour. He had just entered the history classroom when he overheard a group of girls gossiping. One of them was telling the others that, at the party on Friday, Harry and Taylor had gotten to third. Zayn dismissed it as bored people trying to stir things up. The girl talking was known to be an attention seeker – always wanted to have the best gossip to share. Sure, the girls had seemed a little too friendly earlier, with Harry nuzzling her face into the crook of Taylor’s neck, their hands entwined, but that was just typical Harry. At least that was what Zayn told himself. At lunchtime, though, after some particularly heavy flirting between the two girls, Zayn couldn’t help asking,_

_“Are you guys a couple now?”_

_“No,” Harry snorted. But at the same time, Taylor had gone,_

_“Yeah,” with a wide grin on her face. Both girls froze._

_“We’re not?” Taylor asked Harry._

_“Um…” Harry frowned, “I think that’s probably something we should…um…discuss. Later.”_

_And the trio lapsed into a heavy silence._

_That Friday, curled up on the couch watching reruns of Fresh Prince of Bel-Air (because he had never been much of a party person), Zayn heard his phone buzz on the cushion next to him. It was a text from Harry._

_“Please come over.”_

_A second later,_

_“Please.”_

_And Zayn didn’t hesitate. Already in a pair of track pants and a t-shirt, he pulled on a hoodie and his converse, grabbed his house keys, scribbled a note to his mum letting her know where he was and walked the two blocks to Harry’s house._

_When he arrived, Harry’s mother, Anne, opened the door and smiled gratefully._

_“She’s up in her room,” Anne informed him. “She says she doesn’t want to see anybody but you.”_

_Zayn nodded and made his way up the stairs, knocking twice at Harry’s door._

_“Come in,” she croaked. Zayn pushed the door open and it was as though a fist clenched his heart. Harry was on the floor at the foot of her bed, her long limbs tucked in as tightly as possibly as she curled into a ball. Never had Zayn seen her looking so…small. He fell to the ground and wrapped his arms around her, telling her everything was fine and she was going to be okay, as she sobbed into his chest. When she calmed down a little, he dared to ask her what the matter was._

_“Taylor” was the one word she managed to get out before a fresh wave of tears forced themselves out of her still-moist eyes. So Zayn didn’t ask anything more. Eventually, when her tear had dried out, she bitterly joked,_

_“No more dating girls for me.”_

_“Yeah?” Zayn replied, distinctly aware of the warmth spreading inside his stomach._

_“Yeah. They’re too eager…too keen to put labels on a thing, whatever the thing is. And that just screws things up. With guys they’re okay with just having a casual, possibly exclusive thing. They don't need labels.”_

_“Hm.” And Zayn didn’t say anymore because he was too busy trying to figure out the cause of the wave of relief that was making it’s way through his body. But he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind when Harry asked,_

_“D’you wanna listen to music?”_

_Zayn nodded and Harry got up and padded over to the iPod dock, chose a playlist and turned up the volume. Then the pair climbed onto the bed and just held each other in a silence that was only disturbed by Harry’s occasional sniffles, until they fell asleep._

_End of flashback_

 

Zayn faced a sleeping Harry and watched the way she smiled in her sleep. His mother had always said that if someone smiled in their sleep, it meant they were dreaming of angels. And Zayn was willing to bet that Harry’s angel had reddish-brown hair and a slightly crooked nose. But if Louis made her happy, then Zayn was happy. At least, he told himself that. Sighing, he rolled over and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to take over.


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while but, you know, school and whatnot.But it's here! So if you guys could read and give some feedback that would be incredible :D Enjoy!

Zayn had just finished his shift at the gallery and was about to head home when Liam asked if they could grab lunch together. Zayn didn’t really want to – he was absolutely exhausted from a lack of sleep. But Liam was still healing form a breakup with his girlfriend of three years and needed company. Plus, there was something about his big, brown eyes that reminded Zayn of a lost puppy. So he agreed.

 

They popped into McDonald’s and ordered takeaway then sat at a picnic table in a nearby park. Liam was chattering away excitedly about something but Zayn was hardly listening, too tired to pay attention.

“Zayn?” Liam called. “Did you pick up any of that?”

Zayn opened his mouth to insist that he did but, from the knowing look in Liam’s eyes, the attempt would be futile.

“Rough night?” Liam asked sympathetically.

“You could say that.”

“D’you wanna talk about it?”

And Zayn didn’t, not really, but for some reason his lips were moving and he could hear himself saying,

“I just have a bad feeling about Harry and Louis.”

“Why? They’re adorable together.” Liam’s face flushed red and Zayn could tell it was because he was remembering walking in on the girls.

“Yeah, they are, but it’s just…Harry doesn’t really handle girls very well.”

Liam frowned.

“She seems to be doing just fine.”

“I know but she just…I don't…I don't think dating girls is good for her.”

“Do you have a problem with Harry being gay?” Liam raised an eyebrow.

“No! Not at all! I’m not a homophobe. I have absolutely nothing against gay people.” And that, Zayn knew, was the truth. He hated when people judged others for something that was part of them.

“But you do have something against _Harry_ being gay.” And the expression on Liam’s face turned excited, as if he had suddenly figured it all out. _Good_ , Zayn thought, because he himself sure needed some explaining done.

“What do you mean?” Zayn asked.

“Oh my god, Zayn, don't you get it?”

“No, I really don't. If you could share this epiphany that’d be great.”

Liam grinned.

“Okay. Remember when I asked you how you got girls so easily, and you replied by asking me how I got into long-term relationships?”

“Yeah?”

“Well the reason you don't is cuz you’re never friends with them first!”

“What’re you on about? I’m friends with Perrie…”

Liam rolled his eyes disbelievingly.

“Yeah? Well what’s Harry’s favourite fruit?”

“Bananas,” Zayn replied easily, a smile creeping onto his face. It was the source of one of the most recycled jokes between them.

“Okay, now what’s Perrie’s?”

Zayn couldn’t answer.

“See?” Liam grinned.

“But fruit is such a random topic! I don't know what _your_ favourite fruit is and _we’re_ friends.”

“Fine,” Liam conceded. “What colour are Harry’s eyes?”

“Green.” Zayn didn’t hesitate.

“What about Perrie’s?”

Zayn opened his mouth but no answer would come out. He felt as if it was just swimming at the back of his mind, all he needed was a little jolt to his memory. But Liam had already gotten his answer.

“Exactly!” he smirked triumphantly.

“Okay! So maybe I’m not _friends_ with Perrie. But what does this have to do with Harry being gay or not?”

Liam sighed.

“Jesus, Zayn, I thought you were a clever kid. I thought you’d have put two and two together by now.”

“Well I haven’t so d’you wanna just tell me?” Zayn was getting impatient, especially as he was already irritable from lack of sleep.

“You’re afraid of losing her,” Liam said simply. Zayn blinked at him for a moment before snorting incredulously.

“That is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard. Harry’s been with tons of people before and I’ve never had a problem with it.”

“Harry’s probably been with tons of _guys_ before. I’m guessing not that many girls.”

“Why does that fucking change anything?” Zayn was getting seriously annoyed by that stupid, knowing, pitying smile on Liam’s lips.

“Because you’re in love with her.”

Zayn just stared at Liam, convinced he had lost his mind. He started packing up his things to leave.

“Mate, you’re talking complete bullshit right now. You clearly don't know what’s going on here-”

“Just think about it!” Liam insisted. “Hear me out, okay?”

Zayn struggled internally before sighing and sitting back down. If nothing else, it’d be good to look back on and laugh about in a few years time. Liam smiled gratefully.

“ When Harry’s with a guy it’s fine, it’s okay, because, in the back of your mind, you know that when you’re finally ready to confront your feelings, she’ll still be there and’ll probably be in love with you too. Because, let’s face it, you can't be so close to someone for so long and not feel even a little bit for them. But when she’s with a girl, it’s not so fine because what if she fully swings the other way and decides she’s batting for the other team or whatever? Then when you realise you love her, the chance of you getting her is next to none because she doesn’t want guys anymore. So the reason you’re uncomfortable with the idea of Harry being gay is because you’re afraid that, by the time you’re ready for her, she won't want you.”

Zayn wasn’t sure of the exact moment when Liam stopped talking. All he knew was that the things Liam was saying sounded way too familiar, as if he had heard them before. Then it hit him. They were familiar because they were the things he’d known all along. Where he had heard them before was in his own head, in the millisecond before he unconsciously shoved them down before they could creep into his conscious mind. He was in love with Harry. He had been in love with her for as long as he could remember. And just as he was about to let out a cry of despair, he remembered the hopefulness in Harry’s eyes when he had almost kissed her last night. And it was enough to convince him of what he had to do. Because maybe, just maybe, he still had a chance.

 

He leapt up from the bench and was prepared to sprint the whole way home when Liam called out to him.

“What?”

“Where’re you going, mate?”

“I’m going to tell the girl that I love how I feel!”

Liam smiled understandingly.

“Aren’t you forgetting something though?”

“If you mean Louis then no. I need to tell Harry how I feel before she gets serious with Louis-”

“I don't mean Louis.”

Zayn couldn’t think of any good reason why he shouldn’t run and tell Harry that he was in love with her right this moment. Seeing this, Liam sighed.

“Blonde hair? About 5”3? Bit of a hippie?”

“Oh.” Zayn finally caught on. “I have to end things with Perrie first, don't I?”

Liam nodded. Zayn sighed frustratedly because he really didn’t want to delay telling Harry his feelings for any longer. But Liam was right so Zayn pulled out his phone from his pocket and texted her,

 

“We need to talk.”

 

He waved goodbye to Liam and turned to leave when the boy called out to him again.

“Yes, Liam?”

“Kiwis.” And then he giggled as he got up and disposed of the paper bags. Zayn rolled his eyes affectionately, wondering how someone could go from displaying such wisdom and _sagesse_ to being so childlike in a matter of minutes.

 

* * *

 

Harry was sprawled across the couch in Louis’ flat. They were supposed to be going to the cinema but, as Harry had come to expect, Louis’ was taking forever to get ready.

 

The door unlocked and Harry lifted her head to see Eleanor walk in with a not very pleased-looking blonde.

“Oh, hey Harry!” Eleanor smiled.

“Hey, El,” Harry replied. Eleanor turned to the blonde.

“Perrie, this is Harry. The one Louis’ been raving about.” She rolled her eyes playfully at Harry, who simply shrugged with a grin.

“My best friend’s seeing a Perrie,” Harry commented.

“The one from Yorkshire?” El asked. Harry nodded.

“Zayn?” Louis called, “He’s a top lad, that one!”

Eleanor and Harry laughed but Perrie’s eyes widened.

“You know Zayn?”

“Yeah!” Harry replied easily. “We live together. Are _you_ the Perrie, then?”

Perrie completely disregarded Harry’s question.

“You live together,” she repeated. Harry nodded. Perrie’s eyes narrowed.

“Are you the reason he’s just broken up with me then?”

“Perrie!” Eleanor admonished. Harry was momentarily stunned. Before she could answer though, Louis cut in.

“Why would she have anything to do with you and Zayn when she’s seeing me?” Louis pounced on top of Harry, knocking the wind out of her. Perrie pursed her lips, unconvinced.

“Maybe she’s just using you to make him jealous.”

Eleanor snorted at the stupidity of Perrie’s reasoning and Harry fought a smile. Louis rolled her eyes before speaking.

“Perrie, I met Zayn last night. He saw how happy Harry and I are together. Even if he were utterly in love with her, he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise her happiness. He loves her too much to risk it.”

Harry felt a sad sort of contentment in her stomach. Even if Zayn wasn’t in love with her, at least he loved her enough to be happy with her happiness. And, although she knew that already, it was nice to have someone else reassure her of it. But, even as she and Louis said goodbye to Louis’ flatmates, the question lingering in the back of her mind was, why _had_ Zayn ended things with Perrie?”

 

* * *

 

After the movie, they returned to Louis’ flat, cuddling on the couch as Eleanor had taken Perrie out clubbing in an attempt to get her mind off Zayn. Conversation flowed as effortlessly as always and Harry nuzzled into the crook of Louis’ neck.

 

There was a moment of silence before Louis cleared her throat.

“Harry, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause.

“Go on,” Harry urged.

“Okay. Well…um…” Louis grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of her neck.

 

“Harry, will you be my girlfriend?”


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, I'm so sorry it's been over a year. I don't know how time flew by so fast but anyways I'm back, finally. I've finished writing this fic, but there's one more chapter after this so I'll post that now. Love ya!

“Harry, will you be my girlfriend?”

 

Harry froze. It was as if her brain simply could not process Louis’ words and as a result had completely shut down. She wasn’t sure how long she had remained quiet but it must have been a while because Louis was nudging her and asking if she had heard the proposal. Harry pulled away from the older girl and began,

“Louis…I’m sorry…I can't…I don't…I just…don't do relationships.”

Harry felt like she had been punched in the stomach when she saw Louis’ face fall.

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry! It isn’t you, I swear,” Harry gushed. “You’re incredible and amazing and funny and witty and _fucking beautiful_ and I know I’d be _lucky_ to be your girlfriend I just…don't do relationships. I…I _can't_ do relationships!”

Harry felt as if she was about to cry and it pissed her off because here she was feeling sorry for herself when Louis, the one who’d just gotten rejected, was comforting her.

“I’m so sorry, Lou,” Harry repeated with all the sincerity of her heart. “And I really don't want this getting in the way of…us.”

Louis forced a snort.

“Please. You’re not getting rid of me _that_ easily.”

Harry grinned and didn’t fight it when Louis pulled her back into her arms. And although the air wasn’t as easy as it usually was between them, it was as good as Harry could hope for considering the situation.

“I’ve always wanted to ask,” Louis spoke in a voice that was too bright to be real. “Isn’t Harry a guy’s name?”

“Isn’t Louis?” Harry shot back playfully.

“Fair enough.” Louis shrugged. “It was supposed to be Louise but my dad was dyslexic and forgot the ‘e’ on the end. Plus I quite like Louis.”

“It suits you,” Harry grinned up at her.

“Thank you! I think so too. Now what about you?” she tapped Harry lovingly on the nose.

“My name’s actually Harriet. But when Zayn joined my primary school and I went over to say hi, he seemed kinda shy. Didn’t think he’d be too comfortable talking to a girl so I sort of boy’ed myself up as much as possible. My hair wasn’t too long anyway – I could probably have passed for a boy who hadn’t had a haircut in a while – so I just went with Harry instead of Harriet. And it sounded nicer anyway. Now the only one who calls Harriet is my grandmother.”

They chuckled quietly and fell silent.

“It’s Zayn, isn’t it?” Louis asked in a small voice.

“What’s Zayn?”

“The reason you don't do relationships.”

Harry squirmed, suddenly uncomfortable.

“I don't know what you’re on abou-”

“Oh, come on, Harry!” Louis sighed exasperatedly, withdrawing her arm and letting Harry sit up. “I see the way you look at him. I see the goofy smile that always creeps onto your face when you’re with him. I see the utter adoration in your eyes when you look at him. Even when he speaks, you let his words linger for a moment, as if you just want to absorb his voice, commit every word to memory. And I’m not _angry_ I just want to know that there’s a bloody good reason why I can't have you.”

“Zayn’s just my best friend, Louis.”

“Your best friend whom you happen to be in love with.”

And Harry knew there was no point in denying it. At least not to Louis when she had already figured half of it out.

“Okay, fine! I love him! It doesn’t change anything, though. He knows I love him and it doesn’t change anything. And I’ve gotten over that. Maybe I haven’t gotten over _him_ but I’ve gotten over the fact that I’ll never have him. I’ll never kiss his lips, I’ll never spoon with him, I’ll never look into his eyes and tell him how much I love him…” her voice was barely a whisper now. She took a deep breath and continued. “But I’ve gotten over it. I’ve known since forever and I’m moving on with my life. So me not wanting to be in a relationship _ever_ has got nothing to do with Zayn. I’m just…fucked up.”

Louis tutted.

“You’re not fucked up. But don't you see, Harry? You not wanting to be in a relationship everhas got _everything_ to do with Zayn. You’re waiting. You’re waiting, hoping that _someday_ he’ll wake up and realise it’s been you all along that he wants. And you want to be there; you want to be available when he comes to that realisation. You don't want to be tied down with expectations from being in a relationship with someone else. You don't want to settle down before Zayn, on the off chance that he might actually have feelings for you. You’re waiting, clinging on to the hope that after all this time, something might finally happen.”

And Harry was shaking her head, muttering the word ‘ _no’_ over and over and over again, willing Louis’ analysis to be way off. She needed it to be way off. And yet, with each shaky breath she took, it was as if the knowledge was cementing itself into her brain. Not that she hadn’t already known this – she had – but she had been happy to pretend it wasn’t true, remain in bliss ignorance. But she couldn’t now. Not anymore.

 

She could feel the tears forcing themselves out of her eyes and then Louis – whom she was convinced was incapable of harbouring ill feelings – was pulling her close again and letting her cry into her shoulder until her eyes had run completely dry.

 

* * *

 

Zayn was perched excitedly, nervously, fidgeting on the couch, waiting for Harry to come home. He had rehearsed exactly what he was going to say about a million times beforehand so that the moment she walked in he could pour it all out without hesitation.

 

But when the front door finally unlocked and Zayn spun around with a nervous grin on his face the words fell away and he rushed to Harry. Her face was pale and drawn, lips chapped and visible bags under her red-rimmed eyes. He pulled her into a tight hug against his chest, dry sobs racking her body, her eyes too tired to produce tears. He knew it was the wrong time to tell her how he felt. Because right now, whatever she was going through, whatever had happened with Louis, she needed him to be there for her as a best friend. And he was determined to play his part right.

 

He guided her to the couch, sitting her down without letting go of her, and she gripped his t-shirt, whimpering as Zayn shushed her and held her close. When her sobs finally subsided, he asked,

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Harry shook her head, although movement was difficult with how tightly Zayn was holding her. He let it go. After another quiet minute, Zayn began to sing softly.

 

_A tornado flew around my room before you came_

And Harry couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto her face. Because it was the same song that had played and Zayn had sang along to without realising it when he was comforting her after she’d found Taylor with some guy, all those years ago, much like how he was comforting her now.

_Excuse the mess it made_

_It usually doesn’t rain_

_In southern California_

_Much like Arizona_

_My eyes don't cry tears but boy they bawl_

_When I’m thinking bout you_

_Ooh no no no_

_I’ve been thinking bout you_

_You know know know_

_I’ve been thinking bout you_

_Do you think about me still?_

_Do ya? Do ya?_

Zayn felt a pang of guilt in his chest. Because he hadn’t been able to squash the thought before it had crossed his mind. He hadn’t been able to catch himself before he’d thought how beautiful Harry looked even now, so frail and vulnerable in his arms. And he’d wondered for a moment if it would be so bad if he leant down and kissed her. But that wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing. He was supposed to be fulfilling his best friend duties and supporting her. But the thought had already entered his mind and he was having a tough time making it leave. Especially when Harry looked up and smiled at him, eyes silently grateful and lips dry but still inviting. His internal struggle must have shown on his face because Harry frowned ever so slightly. But when she took a small breath to speak, Zayn couldn’t take it anymore. He leaned down, closed his eyes and pressed his lips tenderly to her own.

 

At first the kiss was cautious, lips barely touching, neither of them sure what to do next. Then Zayn’s body began to react to the sensation and he pushed into the kiss a little harder, running his tongue against Harry’s plump, lower lip. He heard her small gasp and that sent his brain into overtime as Harry sat up and wrapped her arms around his neck, finally kissing back. His lips nudged hers apart and, after only a brief instant of hesitation, he slipped his tongue into her mouth. And when Harry moaned it went straight to his crotch. His face warmed up slightly at the idea of getting hard for Harry but, by the time she was palming him through his jeans, all uncertainty fell away and he pulled her on top of him.

 

She expertly unbuttoned his trousers and zipped them down and her hand slipped beneath the band of his boxers. Zayn let out a deep groan as he felt Harry’s long, slender fingers curl around his thickening dick. And with each tug, she scrambled whatever coherent thoughts Zayn had left. And then he picked her up, her legs gripping his waist, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, their lips still latched together, and carried her to his bed in their room. Only then did they disrupt their kiss, eyes glued to each other’s, full of trepidation.

“Yeah?” Zayn asked Harry, breathless.

“Yeah.” Harry replied.

And with that, they crashed their lips back together as Zayn fumbled with the button on Harry’s jeans, hands too unsteady to work efficiently. When he finally succeeded, he tried to pull them down but _fucking Harry and her ridiculously tight jeans_. He got rid of her stupid brown boots (which he had actually grown quite fond of in time) before returning to work on the jeans. The girl lifted her pelvis to help him a little but it barely made a difference and they were both becoming very impatient so instead she just kicked her legs wildly until the jeans flew off her long legs. From there, it was easy.

 

Harry shimmied out of her jacket and pulled her t-shirt over her head, tossing both to the side before Zayn’s lips were latching back onto hers. She realised he had also discarded his t-shirt and jeans and ran her hands along his smooth, toned body, drinking it all in; everything she had been missing out on for so long. But when Zayn’s fingers began to toy with the fabric of her thong, she let out a loud gasp and pressed herself into his touch. He rubbed her gently through the cloth before breaking their kiss again as he swiftly pulled the thong down and off. He held up his hand inquisitively to her.

“Two,” she replied hastily, “three. I dunno just do it!”

Zayn smirked and sucked on two fingers before pushing them into Harry. Her back arched and she cried out as she lost all rational functioning. With the way Zayn was curling his fingers as he pumped in and out of her, she was fairly sure she would be coming soon, especially after he inserted a third finger. Harry gripped the sheets beneath her and, sucking in a sharp breath, hissed,

“Christ, Zayn, just fuck me already!”

Reaching into his bedside drawer, Zayn pulled out a condom, ripped the packet open and rolled it over his erection. He mumbled something about lube but Harry wasn’t in the mood to delay any longer.

“It doesn’t matter, we don't need it. Just fuck me _now_.”

And Zayn complied willingly. He positioned himself carefully and Harry let out a throaty moan as he entered inside her. Her eyes fluttered shut and she bit her lips in pleasure.

 

When she opened her eyes, her heart lurched at the sight of her best friend of forever thrusting gingerly into her, watching her face intently for any indication of pain. And she wondered whose idea this was, this cruel joke that this boy was the solution to all her problems and the cause of all her pain.

 

She hadn’t realised she was crying again (hell, she hadn’t realised she could even cry anymore) until Zayn was pulling out of her with a concerned expression, asking her what was wrong and wiping moisture from her eyes. And a wave of fury swept through Harry’s body because how could one person have such a colossal amount of control over her happiness? Surged by this, she grabbed Zayn’s shoulders, pulled him down and flipped them over so that she was now straddling him. He let out a soft “oof” and Harry found it so adorable that she felt as if her heart were bursting with conflicting emotions. She lowered herself onto his cock and began riding him, her frustration causing her to take it a little rougher than she ordinarily would. But Zayn seemed to be enjoying it. His eyes rolled backwards as he sputtered,

“Shit, Harry, how the fuck-”

But his sentence was cut off by a guttural moan that forced itself out of him. Harry’s emotional state had become even more unbalanced with the combination of Zayn’s voice and the sight of him under her and, even more frustrated by her body’s reaction to it, she leant forward and rode harder, quicker. And it had left Zayn speechless, which brought her a certain smugness, but this new angle was really hitting the spot and _fuck_ it was like each time she lowered herself a sharp pleasure travelled through her body. Before long, she was coming after a particularly intense wave of pleasure and clenching around Zayn. She knew that was enough to drive him over the edge because he groaned and she felt him shudder beneath her before the condom grew even warmer as the white fluid filled it. Harry remained on top of Zayn for a while after they came as they both struggled to catch their breaths.

 

Eventually, when Harry’s heart rate was almost back to normal and her eyelids grew heavy, she hefted herself off Zayn, rolling the used condom off him and tossing it into the bin. When she turned back to face Zayn, he was lain on his side with a slightly dazed expression in his eyes. He shifted backwards and patted the space in front of him, beckoning her over. She obeyed, perching lightly on the bed beside him. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her towards him so that her back was pressed against his chest. They lay in silence, neither of them quite aware of what to say after that. But as Harry drifted off to sleep, Zayn watched the girl in his arms and whatever doubt he had ever had washed away as he whispered,

“I love you.”


	6. 6

When Zayn awoke the next morning Harry was no longer lying in his arms. A brief wave of panic shot through him until he noticed the smell of breakfast wafting into the room. He smiled to himself. Good ol’ Haz.

 

Disentangling himself from the sheets and slipping on his discarded boxers from the night before, he trudged out of the bedroom and leaned against the doorframe.

“Morning.” He considered adding ‘love’ to his greeting but he wasn’t sure if that would be crossing the line – or where the line even was.

Harry spun around.

“Morning.” She had on a loose _Ramones_ t-shirt and a pair of leggings. Zayn noted in the back of his mind that Harry was more covered than she usually would be, especially when it was just the two of them in the flat.

“What’s for breakfast?” Zayn asked conversationally.

“See for yourself.” Harry served the omelettes she had just fried and carried the plates to the small table.

“That smells incredible,” Zayn commented as he made his way over and sat down opposite Harry.

 

As they tucked into their breakfast, a silence descended around them. But it wasn’t one of their usual comfortable silences. This one was tense, heavy, like something off between them. Zayn decided it was up to him to broach the subject of the night before since they both already knew how Harry felt. He cleared his throat.

“Harry, about last night–”

“I think we should pretend it never happened.”

Zayn was stunned into silence. Harry continued.

“I think we both know that was a result of poor judgment on both our parts and it’s probably better if we just go back to the way things were before.”

“Um…yeah, sure…” was all Zayn could think of to say.

Harry smiled.

“Best friends?” he held out her hand to Zayn. He shook it.

“Best friends.” Even just saying the words, Zayn felt like his heart was being ripped out. It was too late. He had realised too late his love for Harry. The girl had moved on. Last night had meant nothing to her. It had simply been a way to let out all her frustration. She didn’t actually want him anymore.

 

Suddenly feeling very stupid, Zayn got up and went straight to the shower as Harry cleaned up in the kitchen. When he finished, he dressed and grabbed his wallet and phone, shoving them into his pockets. He needed to get out of there.

“I’m heading off,” he announced. Harry nodded without even looking at him. With that, Zayn exited the flat and walked as quickly as he could, without the slightest idea where he was going.

 

Back in the flat, Harry let out a loud groan of frustration the minute she was sure Zayn was out of hearing range. She leaned against the wall and tried to calm herself down. Saying those things to Zayn had been the most difficult thing she had done in a while. Last night had been incredible for her. It really had. And for a moment when she had looked into Zayn’s eyes, she thought he just might have been in love with her too.

 

But in the moment before sleep had consumed her, she had heard Zayn whisper that he loved her and then she came crashing down from the high she had been on. He loved her. He wasn’t _in love_ with her. He had seen that she was in a bad place and had slept with her to help her feel better about herself. He did it because he was a good friend. And she had so willingly fallen for it, fooled herself into believing he actually wanted her in that way.

 

Sliding down against the wall, Harry felt wetness on her cheeks. She didn’t bother wiping the tears away; there was nobody around to hide them from anyway. So she sat, back against the wall, and let the tears pour silently down her face.

 

* * *

 

The next couple of weeks were tense. Harry and Zayn were always very careful to avoid direct contact, flinching whenever they so much as brushed each other. They’re conversations were short and guarded, neither one of them sure of how far the jokes could go and therefore avoiding that territory completely.

 

A part of Harry regretted going all the way that night but, at the same time, she was glad they had. If they hadn’t done it, Harry would have spent her whole life wondering what would have happened if only they had. She would have never gotten to feel Zayn in the way she had. She would never have known what he felt like and Harry was convinced _that_ would have slowly but surely killed her from the inside out. At least this way she knew the outcome was no good. And eventually things between her and Zayn would get back to normal. They’d fixed it up the first time so they would be able to fix it up this time. Well, that was what Harry told herself. Even though she knew deep down that it was different this time.

 

“What’s up with you and Zayn now?”

Harry rolled her eyes exasperatedly at Niall as Josh chuckled from his position on the floor. The trio were in Niall’s flat after the gig and were supposed to be going over their performance and discussing were they could improve but they were all too tired for that so instead, Harry and Niall were lounging on opposite sides his raggedy old sofa with their legs intertwined while Josh remained cross-legged on the floor.

“Nothing’s going on, you twat.”

“The fuck it isn’t. Then why have you been writing fucking sappy lyrics for the past 3 weeks?”

“Niall,” Harry sighed, “I just went through a breakup…”

“You and Louis weren’t even together,” Josh interjected. Niall pointed at the drummer and nodded in agreement.

“Exactly! Besides, these lyrics aren’t even breakup lyrics. They’re I’m so fucking gone for my best friend but I’m too much of a pussy to tell him.”

“But I broke up with my girlfriend anyway so now I’m a lonely, sour fuck,” Josh added. Niall laughed and reached out for a fist bump. Harry scowled.

“You guys said you liked the songs!”

“We do! A lot of the best songs out there are the sappy, emotional ones. The sappy, emotional people however…”

Harry huffed. Niall leaned over and gently took Harry’s hand.

“Hey,” his eyes were kind and friendly. “We don't like to see you down. This is us trying to get you to open up about whatever it is that’s on your mind so we can maybe help you get past it. We’re just a bit shite at it, if you haven’t noticed.”

Harry let out a soft chuckle. Niall grinned widely.

“Now tell us, what happened with Zayn?”

“We fucked,” Harry stated simply. The boys’ eyes grew wide.

“I don't get it,” Josh said. Niall let out a snort of laughter before clapping his hand over his mouth.

“Sorry,” he gasped. “But neither do I.”

Harry shrugged. So, Niall sighed and amended.

“D’you want to explain to us why that’s got you sad?”

“Because it was a pity fuck.”

“Oh.” Niall looked to Josh for help.

“Why did he pity fuck you?” Josh asked.

“It was after the whole Louis thing.”

“But I thought you and Louis were cool that night?” Niall frowned.

“Yeah, we were. But she’d gone and fucking _analysed_ my fucked up self and she’d realised that I’m in love with Zayn.”

Josh laughed.

“So she finally admits it!”

“Yeah, I admit it. I never actually denied it. That would be lying to myself. But anyway, she didn’t stop there. She also figured out that being in love with Zayn is the reason I can't fucking do relationships. Apparently, I’m still waiting for him to realise he’s in love with me too.” She laughed bitterly. “That’s not happening any time soon.”

“But you fucked,” Niall pointed out.

“Yeah, but that was only because I looked like shit when I came home and he felt bad for me so he wanted to make me feel better because he’s a good friend.”

Josh frowned.

“How do you know?”

“How do I know he’s a good friend?”

“No, how do you know he only did it because he felt bad for you?”

“Oh,” Harry sighed. “He said he loved me.”

There was a moment of silence before Harry’s bandmates began sputtering with laughter.

“Sorry!” Niall wheezed, “But how the _fuck_ does saying you love someone and proceeding to have sex with them now mean you feel sorry for them?”

Harry glared at them. She didn’t like being laughed at.

“You guys don't get it!” she shook her head. “He was comforting me then we started getting off then we started fucking and he kept asking me if I was okay then right before we fell asleep he whispered that he loved me. So, he _loves_ me but he isn’t in love with me. Therefore, it was a pity fuck.”

Niall gaped at her before shaking his head incredulously.

“Fucking women!” he exclaimed as Josh howled with bellyaching laughter. “Why do you women always go and fucking overthink everything? The dude said he loves you! He asked you if you were okay because he obviously fucking cares about you. People care about the people they’re in love with! Like you care about Zayn. Blokes don't do the whole I love you versus I’m _in_ love with you thing. If we love someone, we love them. In our heads we know the difference and we show it by the things we do. Like _fucking_ them. Like, I love Josh but I wouldn’t fuck him just because he turned into an emotional wanker!”

“Well, aren’t you a shit friend!” Josh smacked Niall’s knee playfully. The blonde boy laughed and blew a kiss at the drummer. Harry couldn’t help the small smile that played on her lips as she watched her bandmates. Niall turned his attention back to Harry.

“Zayn loves you. He said so himself. Now it’s time you stop being a fucking _wanker_ and go sort your life out!”

 

* * *

 

As Harry walked along the corridor to the flat, she could feel the confidence Niall had instilled in her slowly seeping away. What if he was wrong? What if Zayn _did_ actually distinguish between ‘I love you’ and ‘I’m in love with you’? What if she brought it up and it completely destroyed their friendship?

 

By the time she was unlocking the front door, she had completely chickened out. Pushing the door open, she noticed Zayn standing by a counter, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration as he prepared a sandwich. The image caused Harry to smile softly. Zayn looked up at her and grinned, if not a little cautiously.

“Hey. I thought I’d make us dinner for a change.”

“Ooh, sandwiches. Such a strong effort from you,” Harry teased. Zayn pouted.

“At least I tried!”

Harry laughed.

“Yeah, you did. I’m sure they’re lovely too.”

She picked up the one ready chicken sandwich and bit into it.

“Wow,” her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “This is actually really good!”

Zayn beamed. It made Harry’s chest tighten with affection.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah! So, you can make sandwiches. Good on you, Malik.” Harry playfully shoved Zayn’s shoulder. But, after such a long time without deliberate contact, Zayn wasn’t used to it and stumbled further back than he should have, considering the amount of power Harry had put into that. Harry almost laughed, except Zayn had gone flying and smacked his back against the opposite counter.

“Ah, fuck!” he cried.

“Oh shit! Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Harry rushed towards Zayn and lifted his shirt to see the damage done on his back. There was a red line where he had hit the counter with an angry bruise in the middle.

“Is it bad?” Zayn asked.

“Um…it’s not…fuck I don't know. You need ice.” Harry yanked the freezer open and pulled out an ice tray, wrapping it in a dishcloth and pressing it to Zayn’s back, causing him to hiss softly, gripping the edge of the counter.

“Sorry,” Harry repeated diffidently.

“S’fine,” Zayn said quietly. They remained in silence for a while until Harry could feel the dishcloth soaking through from the melting ice. Tossing the makeshift icepack into the sink, she leaned down to examine the result.

“Hoe does it feel?” she asked him.

“Dunno.” Harry watched Zayn’s back muscles move under his skin as he shrugged. “Kinda numb.”

Before thinking better of it, Harry ran her fingers gently over the mark. Zayn’s sharp intake of air was audible.

“Does that hurt?” Harry asked apologetically, pulling away.

“Not really. Just feels kinda…um…yeah.” There was something in Zayn’s voice, something indescribable that made Harry’s stomach curl as she straightened up and raised her eyes. Zayn turned to face her, letting his shirt fall, gorgeous hazel eyes watching her intently. The atmosphere around them shifted towards something more charged.

“I…um…” Harry began, not really knowing where she was going with this.

“You what?” Zayn urged.

“I…uh…I broke up with Louis. Quite a while ago actually.” Harry didn’t even know why she was bringing it up now.

“Really?” Zayn cocked his head. “Why?”

“We…um…wanted different things.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Silence. Harry glanced down at her hands.

“I broke up with Perrie,” Zayn finally said. Harry’s neck snapped up.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Zayn’s lip quirked up. “Quite a while ago actually.”

Harry bit her lip to refrain from laughing.

“Why is that?”

Zayn shrugged, but his lips curved even more.

“We wanted different things.”

“And was it is you want?”

Zayn’s expression changed, lips no longer smiling, eyes boring into Harry’s with the most intense sincerity.

“You.”

And that was all it took. After the initial second it took for Harry to process what Zayn was saying, she threw caution to the wind and flung her arms around Zayn’s neck, pulling him down and pressing her lips hard against his. Zayn, for his part, barely seemed caught off, with how quickly he recovered from his slight stumble backwards, slipping his arms around Harry’s waist to steady them.

 

It was chaste and messy, with Harry’s wild curls caught between their lips, and there was no tongue involved but it still had Harry’s heart beating at a thousand miles a minute, loud in her ears.

 

When they separated, Zayn’s face was pulled into an ear-to-ear grin that Harry was pretty sure mirrored her own. They kept their arms wrapped around each other, just watching each other’s faces.

“Well that was…” Zayn began, searching for the right words.

“Gross,” Harry laughed. “Not a huge fan of the taste of my own hair.”

Zayn grinned.

“Well, maybe we should try it again.”

He brushed Harry’s hair out of her face before leaning down, eyes fluttering shut and gently pressing his lips to Harry’s own. She responded immediately, pressing back into the kiss as their lips moved together. When Zayn’s tongue slid carefully over her bottom lip, she parted willingly, granting him entrance.

 

They kissed for much longer this time, although they kept it sweet, not going any further for the meantime. When they finally stopped for a break, Harry was giddy, her skin tingling with happiness and her heart beating like it was going to explode with the sensation.

“Better?” Zayn joked. Harry’s grin grew wider, if that was even possible.

“Much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooooo, sorry I abandoned this for so long lol a lot of /stuff/ has been happening in my life and I just lost inspiration and yada yada point is it’s here it’s done and I hope you liked it! This fic somehow took me 2 years to complete, although I can't say I opened the document once during 2014 so that might explain that lol. I own nothing and no one, this is a work of fiction, all that jazz. Comments appreciated, and thanks for reading!


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